The Twistings of Feeling

I don’t want to
fight the tight
winding tornado
that spins and ravages
within,
Let it rage I say
It’s been corralled
too long
way too long.
But what of
of its desolation?
Tornadoes
are not creatures
of creation
but of beautiful obliteration.
What good
could ever come
of its release?
Perhaps,
Just perhaps,
Once the whirlwind
Dies upon
Release
A silent peace
will follow
and the
world will
right
And settle,
Slowly
Bit
by
Falling
Bit
Into
Place
Again
On a clear
swept
Field.

I dare ya to Search me :)

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Send me an email direct if the mood strikes I would be glad to talk about anything pertaining to reading, writing or publishing. Whether it's mine or yours...it's all good. Just me email at philipwardlow@gmail.com